up into thin air where life barely subsists reminds us of the close tie between life and oxygen supply. It reminds us of the care we owe Mother Nature, and the reality that we rely on other life to survive. I leave the mountain with a renewed commitment to the basic principle of the One Health movement: that the health of the environment, other life forms, and human beings are inextricable. Finally, the inspiration for every ascent that carries me through to the next climb is the spiritual experience of, along with each step, looking up at the line of headlamps lighting the path like candles to a sacred temple; the tacit solidarity of each individual blending into the group as it makes the pilgrimage to the peak as one unified organism. What was special about this hike? Several elements made this hike special. First, our group was comprised of an interesting amalgamation of people-- physicians (infectious disease, emergency medicine, cardiology, anesthesiology), a horticulturist, a computer programmer, and a global health writer and researcher. Our main guide was named Washingtone, a man of great intellect and humanism who had led me up and down Mt. Kilimanjaro in the past, and with whom I had specifically requested Katrin to arrange our trip. Bringing together Washingtone's group of guides and porters together with our group, especially some of the conversations we shared around their lives and dreams, was one of the most memorable aspects of the trip. Second, it was truly special that me and my daughters were able to spend quality time together, and during such a momentous experience. I learned of Mitra’s resilience. Within the first half hour of our final ascent, she threw herself to the side with dizziness, nausea, and the start of what would be a severe migraine. As I mentioned before, the greatest predictor of mountain sickness is prior mountain sickness, which means Mitra was at risk of experiencing it again. She started this climb knowing she might not summit, as she could not years ago. When I recommended that she descend, she insisted that she wanted to continue. I was concerned the entire ascent, keeping a close eye on her to monitor her health. It is difficult to differentiate between when a migraine, nausea, and vomiting will lead to with severe mountain sickness and when the symptoms can be tolerated without risk. Despite her struggles and a bout of vomiting close to the summit, she ascended with the words “Bodily discomfort is temporary. In the near future, I’ll be in a tent with a cup of tea in hand without a migraine, but right now I am embraced by this majestic mountain, fully enjoying it.” Kilimanjaro’s beauty was more encouraging than the pain was discouraging. Third, we connected with a young man who was breathing heavily and coughing on the ascent just near base camp. Though we had seen him every day on the trail looking exhausted but well enough, he was noticeably ill this time. We stopped to ask him some questions and do a brief examination. Strongly suspecting that he had developed pulmonary edema, or fluid in the lungs - one of the more severe complications of altitude sickness - we recommended that he descend as quickly as possible under the care of his guide, who had made the same recommendation the p<strong>rev</strong>ious night. We watched him shed tears right there on the trail as he shared his goal of climbing the mountain to honor two of his closest friends who had died. I held his hand and told him, "Your friends and family want you to be healthy and sound. Your friends whom you honor want you to preserve your own life first. If you were my own son, I 62
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